


This Family of Ours

by sherlockian4evr



Series: The Lovers of Baker Street [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Background Case, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, F/M, F/M/M, Family, Family Fluff, Fertility Issues, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Multi, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-27
Updated: 2018-05-18
Packaged: 2018-10-24 16:42:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 6,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10745709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlockian4evr/pseuds/sherlockian4evr
Summary: The Watson baby, Rosie, is a year old. It's time to think about having another baby, a sibling, but John and Mary have a surprising idea how that should come about.Beta read bySherlock1110.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This really makes no sense unless you've read the rest of the series.

Rosie's one year birthday party had been a success. Mary and both the dads had been there, of course, along with Uncle Mycroft, Greg, Mrs. Hudson and Molly. Now all of the guests had left and there was nothing left to do but to clean the flat and the chocolate icing covered Rosie.

"Half of this stuff is going up to B," Mary informed Sherlock. "The noisy half."

Every toy the detective had given Rosie fell into that category. He had given her everything from a press and talk mobile phone to a musical entertainment table that had eight different noise makers built into it.

Sherlock sniffed. "She needs stimulation." He picked Rosie up and began stripping off her chocolate covered clothes. John had already drawn a bath in the kitchen sink. "You like my gifts, don't you, bee?" Sherlock asked the little girl who giggled with excitement. She knew a bath was coming and she loved bathtime.

Mary chuckled as she started collecting the wrapping paper and bows and chucking them in the bin. Looking over, she caught John's eyes and tilted her head, mouthing, "Now?"

The doctor nodded. He waited until Rosie was happily splashing in the water, then cleared his throat. "You know, it's been a year since this beautiful girl was born."

With a roll of his eyes, Sherlock replied, "We did just celebrate her first birthday."

"Yeah, that's not what I'm getting at." John glanced at his lover. "It should be safe for Mary to get pregnant again. The cesarean scar should be good and strong. You know, we're not getting any younger, so it seems like we should go ahead and start trying for a brother or sister for Rosie."

That made complete sense. Mary's window of fertility would be narrowing and there was increased chance of complications with greater age of the mother. "That seems logical." Sherlock smiled. "Another baby will be nice."

"We're glad you think so," Mary said, sweeping by him long enough to drop a kiss on his chrek.

Rosie chose that moment to start splashing, sending dark, chocolaty water everywhere. John laughed and tickled her tummy. "You need clean water." He drained the sink and refilled it.

"Of course, Mary and I are hoping you'll be more directly involved with the next baby." John used a little baby shampoo to wash his little girl's hair.

"I hardly know how I could be more involved," Sherlock replied, puzzled. "I was there for everything except Rosie's conception."

Mary walked up and put her hand on the detective's arm, giving it a squeeze. "Exactly."

Sherlock blinked a few times, then recovered. "You want me in the room whilst you and John attempt to... Whilst you both... Whilst you're having sex?" He didn't sound shocked, just confused.

"No, silly goose," Mary teased. She looked from John to Sherlock. "We want you to be the father."

The detective went completely off line and stayed that way. Mary took over bathing Rosie and John guided Sherlock to a chair, pressing him down into it.

John gripped Sherlock's hand hard. "Mary, I think we really broke him this time."


	2. Chapter 2

After blinking several times, Sherlock finally came back to himself. He looked from John to Mary with a puzzled frown on his face. "I don't understand why you would want me to be the father of our child. Yes I have a brilliant mind but that's my only personal asset. I'm antisocial, I have the face of a horse and I don't understand social cues. Worst of all, I don't care."

John and Mary exchanged glances. It was the doctor who spoke up. "Sherlock how can you say any of that? Yes, some people find you off putting, but they don't know the real you. They don't know the you that has the biggest heart of anyone we know. You have become a perfect father. You love little Rosie more than anything in the world. You love us. You are wonderful, beautiful, gorgeous and brilliant."

It was Mary's turn to speak. "What idiot told you you have the face of a horse? I thought we had settled this particular insecurity a long time ago. Haven't you ever wondered why people throw themselves at you, both men and women?"

Sherlock shook his head. "My face is too long, I have strange eyes and my curls are too much to tame."

The doctor laughed. "Lovely, that hair of yours is just right to me, but we're getting off topic. You are the only loving, caring, and, yes, gorgeous madman we want to be the father of our next child. How could we let all those wonderful genes fall by the wayside?"

The detective looked at Mary questioningly. "Is that really how you both see me?"

"Of course it is, the former assassin said, reaching out her hand and taking Sherlock's in her own. "How could I possibly see you any other way? I do love you. That's why we're in this family together. It wouldn't work any other way."

Sherlock frowned until finally he nodded slowly. "Alright, but how do we do this? I mean I understand the mechanics, but I'm gay."

John, crouched on the opposite side of Sherlock from Mary, placed his hand on Sherlock's other knee. "That's something we've both thought about and discussed. We have a couple of options open to us. We could go the route of artificial insemination of course, but if you think you can, um, function with Mary in the natural way, that's what we would prefer. I'd be there, of course to, um, lend a hand if needed."

Breathing in sharply, the detective let it out slowly. "You would be there with me, John?"

The doctor gave his lover's knee a reassuring pat. "Of course I would."

Sherlock started chewing on his lip again, looking at Mary. She was a lovely woman and he did love her, though not like he loved John. If he could do this with anyone it would be her. "Mary you truly wouldn't mind having intercourse with me?"

Mary tittered a laugh. "Oh, I absolutely have no problem whatsoever having sex with someone as gorgeous as you are." She grew serious. "I was teasing, dear. I don't expect it to be anything more than a mechanical act between two very close friends. I absolutely don't mind."

Sherlock, still chewing his lip, turned his gaze back to John. "And you, John. You don't think you'll suddenly be jealous at a later date? You won't hold this against me?"

The doctor barked a laugh. "Sherlock, I won't get jealous. I know exactly what this will mean to you. It's simply a practical means to a rather lovely end: another baby."

Sherlock nodded firmly. "Alright, alright, I'll do it."


	3. Chapter 3

John and Mary's laughter came from the kitchen, but it did nothing to soothe Sherlock's nerves. They were happy, celebrating the decision to have a second child with Sherlock as the father. For his part, he paced the living room of 221C, one arm crossed over his chest. The fingers of his right hand were tugging at his curls in a fretful manner.

"Sherlock, are you alright?" Mary asked in a worried tone as she brought a tea tray into the living room. "You look worried."

"I'm fine." The detective kept pacing, the crinkle at the bridge of his nose betraying his concern. He couldn't shake the thoughts that had arisen in his mind.

"John, do something. Make him talk," Mary demanded as she set the tray on the coffee table and set about pouring tea for all of them. "He's got himself worked up and tied into knots."

John walked over and tugged on the detective's arm until Sherlock relented and let the doctor hold his hand. "I said I'm fine," Sherlock insisted, slightly annoyed. He didn't want to talk about what was bothering him, not yet. Besides, it might not even be an issue... then again it might. Why couldn't he just forget about it like the thought had never occurred to him?!

"Sit down with me, love," John said, pulling Sherlock over to sit with him on the love seat. "Something's clearly bothering you. We all agreed not to hide things from one another," he glanced at Mary and smiled, "and you know you can tell us anything. Have you... have you changed your mind about fathering our next baby?" The words had cost him a lot to say, but he had managed it.

"What? No! Of course not." The detective shifted uncomfortably. "It's just... the drugs. What if I can't. I might have a low sperm count or low motility. It's not like I ever expected to be anyone's biological father. It might not be possible at all." It was strange how something he hadn't considered before this very day had suddenly become so important to him. The thought that he might not be able to father their child threatened to overwhelm him. He was embarrassed to find his eyes were burning and his hands shook.

John wrapped and arm around Sherlock's shoulders. "Hey, it's alright." He rocked his lover slowly. "Mary and I have considered that possibility. Doctor. Nurse. Remember? When we thought you might be willing to be the father, but wouldn't want to have sex with Mary, we investigated fertility clinics. We asked about this very thing as well. Any one of them can test your sperm. If there's a problem, we move to plan B and use artificial insemination. There are things they can do to increase the odds in the event there's a problem. It doesn't have to mean the plan is a no go, love."

Mary, who had been looking on in compassionate silence, nodded. "Listen to John, dear. It's not a hopeless situation. It may not even be an issue." She couldn't stand it a moment longer. Mary stood and crossed to sit in Sherlock's lap. It caught him by surprise as it was the first time she had done it. "Stop worrying." With that, she placed a kiss on his cheek.

Sherlock swallowed thickly. "I don't think I can do that, not until I know for sure one way or the other."

"Then we call first thing in the morning and set things in motion," John said. He kissed Sherlock on the lips. "Until then, do try not to worry."


	4. Chapter 4

The appointment at the fertility clinic had been simple. Both John and Mary had accompanied Sherlock and, after filling out what seemed like endless paperwork, the detective had been shown to a private room and given a sterile cup. After a few minutes of manual stimulation, he had deposited his specimen in said cup and left it for the lab technicians to retrieve.

All that was left to do was wait.

* * *

Sherlock listened intently to the voice on his mobile, making the appropriate responses when necessary. All he wanted was for the woman to get to the point. When she did, he smiled broadly and rang off, not waiting for another word. His feet were already carrying him down the stairs to C. "John! Mary!" he yelled as he burst into the flat, still grinning.

Mary appeared from the kitchen carrying Rosie. They both greeted him with smiles of their own. "What is it?" Mary asked, her tone full of curiosity.

"My sperm is good!" Sherlock dashed over and kissed Mary on the cheek, then he swept Rosie from her arms and swung her around and around. It was strange being so happy about something he hadn't cared about just a few short weeks ago, but he was ecstatic. "We need to tell John."

"Tell John what?" the doctor asked. He had entered from the bedroom and was leaning against the doorway. He had an amused look on his face.

Enthused, Sherlock ran over to him and kissed him on the lips, causing the little girl to giggle. "The clinic called. I have a good sperm count and excellent motility."

John laughed. "Right then." He kissed the detective back and lowered his daughter to the floor. "Come here." Wrapping his arm around Sherlock's waist, he guided him over to Mary and wrapped his other arm around her's. He hugged them both, feeling tears welling up in his eyes. It wasn't until that moment that he realised how worried he had been. "That's wonderful."

Rosie wasn't happy about being left out and tugged on Sherlock's trousers. He smiled down at her and picked her up, then went to sit on the sofa with her on his lap. He pulled out his phone and handed it to her to keep her entertained for a bit. She promptly stuck it in her mouth. "So, when do we get started?" he asked, not shyly, but a bit nervously. He still thought he could perform as required so long as John was in the room, but the prospect was unnerving.

Mary shrugged as she sat down in a chair opposite the detective. She could sense Sherlock's nervousness and wanted to leave room for John to sit next to him. "In eight or nine days," she said in a matter of fact tone. "I'll be at my most fertile then.

At that Sherlock blinked. He had a little over a week to left in which to change his mind. Biting his lip, he looked down at Rosie. They had a chance to have a brother or sister for her. No, he wouldn't change his mind. John had sat down next to him and he reached out to take the doctor's hand. "They'll love each other and play together, won't they? There won't be such a large gap between them, not like with me and Mycroft. That's good, isn't it."

"Yeah," John agreed. "They'll be best mates and argue and fuss and make up again. It'll be wonderful."

By the smile on her face, Mary agreed.


	5. Chapter 5

Sherlock lay on his bed in the middle of the night, staring at the ceiling. Each day that had passed brought their family one day closer to trying for another baby. He tried to imagine another baby in their flats, one that was a mix of him and Mary. It made him smile. It wasn't something he had ever expected, having a child that shared his genes.

The detective turned his head towards the door at the sound of footsteps. A larger smile broke out across his face and, at the ensuing knock, he called, "Come in, John."  
The doctor opened the door and entered. "I suppose you deduced it was me," he said with a grin.

"Of course. I heard you in the hall. Your footsteps were too heavy for Mary or Mrs. Hudson and a criminal wouldn't bother to knock." He drew the covers back, inviting John into bed with him.

John laughed."Of course." He climbed into bed. "It seemed far too quiet up here," the doctor commented. "It never occurred to me that you would have turned in so early."

"I wanted to be well rested, just in case." Sherlock rolled onto his side so he could face John. "Instead, I've been laying here, thinking."

"You think in your sleep, babe."

"Ha ha. Seriously. What's it like to be a father?" Sherlock asked, his tone musing.

"Oh, Sherlock, you already know." John, laying on his side, reached out to tuck Sherlock's curls behind his ear. "You're a father to Rosie, just like I am. You were there for almost everything except the conception where Rosie is concerned."

"It has to be different when the child is your own," the detective insisted.

John moved closer to his lover, wrapping an arm around his waist. "Do you think you'll love this new baby more than Rosie?"

"Of course not," Sherlock scoffed. "That would be impossible. I'll love them equally."

John pressed a kiss to Sherlock's lips. "See. You already know the answer to your concerns in your heart."

"Sentiment," the detective said with an eyeroll.

"Precisely." The corner of the doctor's mouth quirked up. "You're eyeballs deep in sentiment by now. You might as well stop pretending to scorn it." John stole another kiss, this time deepening it.

Sherlock let the kiss go on for a bit, enjoying it, then he broke away. The way they were pressed together their erections bumped together. "As much as I'd like to have sex with you right now, I want to wait." He felt himself blush. "Just until after..."

Wonderful. Now the detective was thinking about having sex with Mary. Sex. S. E. X. With a woman. He tried to imagine it and his very vivid imagination conjured her naked form before him. His erection didn't wilt, but he felt his heart flutter with nerves.

"That's fine," the doctor breathed as he kissed Sherlock on the jaw. "I'm looking forward to it, actually."

That surprised Sherlock. "You anticipate it with pleasure?"

John laughed. "I believe that's what I said. I'll be right there with you both, _hands on_ , if that's still alright with you. I can't imagine anything better than being with the two people I love for this purpose." He rested his head against Sherlock's chest.

"I knew you planned on being there on my behalf, but I never dreamt..." the detective hugged John to him so tightly that the doctor's ribs creaked.

"Sherlock..." he squeaked.

"Sorry, John. Sorry." He loosened his hold. The idea of John actually enjoying the three of them together made Sherlock's cock get even harder. Suddenly, his concern about the upcoming activities seemed to pale to nothing and he began to look forward to it. "Thank you for telling me that." Sherlock rolled onto his back, willing his erection away. "Stay the night?"

"Of course," John said, his tone gentle. "Good night, babe."

"Good night."


	6. Chapter 6

Sherlock lay in his bed feeling rather stunned. John's head rested on his left shoulder and Mary's rested on his right. He felt warm, loved, and surprisingly sated. The whole thing, having sex with Mary... and John, had been completely different than what he had expected. In fact, he had enjoyed it. He had even found himself aroused in the face of having sex with a woman, not just any woman, to be sure, but it had surprised him.

The detective kissed the tops of his bed partners' heads in turn. He tried to understand why his reaction to Mary had been so different to what it was with other women. As sentimental as it sounded, it had to be the love they shared: their love for John, for Rosie and even for each other. He had enjoyed their threesome, even if the point of it had been rather utilitarian. He thought that maybe... but, no they wouldn't want this again, not once the baby had been conceived. That was fine. He'd still have John.

"Mm, Sherlock?" Mary asked, whispering; John had fallen asleep. "You look too serious, love. Especially for the way I'm glowing. That was wonderful and I know John thought it was too." She moved her hand to cover her abdomen and rubbed it. "Maybe there's a new spark of life growing in here already."

"I hope so," Sherlock whispered back. He shouldn't be feeling this way, slightly let down. He reminded himself again that he'd still have John and John was almost, almost everything to him. Their little family meant everything else, of course. A single, absurd, pointless little tear slid from the corner of his eye.

"Oh," Mary said, awed, as realisation hit her. She reached up to wipe the tear away. She kissed it off her thumb. "I didn't see, not until now. John. John!" She called out, reaching over the detective to shake the doctor awake. "John. Tell Sherlock it's okay. Tell him now."

"Um, yeah, it's okay." John pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. "What's okay?" he finally asked, groggily, wondering what he had missed.

"Kiss Sherlock, tell him we love him and we can do this again," Mary directed.

The doctor was already kissing Sherlock when the rest of what Mary had said registered. He drew back. "What did you say?"

Sherlock didn't want to wait and see what John would say next. He started climbing out from between the two of them, but they were having none of it. John and Mary piled on top of him.

"Stop, you git," the doctor growled. "You've done enough running off in the past. I'm not about to have you start again now."

The detective surrendered, pouting.

"That's the Sherlock we love," John said, smiling. "So..." His tone grew more serious. "You... enjoyed that? What we did?"

Sherlock nodded the tiniest bit and Mary giggled then kissed his shoulder.

"And yoooou want to do it again?" John asked, his mouth breaking into a huge grin.

"John..." Sherlock started.

"Well, I think it's brilliant." Mary winked at John who smiled back.

"For the record, so do I." John pinched one of Sherlock's nipples, making him yelp.

"John, that tickled." Sherlock tried to cover his nipples, but his lovers were having none of that. They attacked him from both sides, making him squirm uncontrollably. Their jobs were clear: to repeat what they had just done, but with Sherlock getting the majority of the attention. It was time he learned what they could truly be together.


	7. Chapter 7

Mary was late. She was five days late to be precise. Her hands shook as she placed the pregnancy test on the counter. She kept telling herself not to get her hopes up. After all, what were the odds she would ‘catch’ on the first go around. Still, she couldn't help be excited.

Waiting until the boys were out on a case together had been excruciating, but she hadn't wanted to raise their hopes so long as there was a chance they might be dashed. Setting the timer, she sat on the lid of the loo and waited. It was only a couple of minutes, but it seemed like an eternity. Finally, the timer sounded. Holding her breath, she picked up the bit of plastic that would foretell all their futures. He hand flew to her mouth and she let out a happy sob. She was pregnant.

Grabbing the baby monitor, she carried it and the pregnancy test back into the living room. Rosie was still sleeping peacefully. She set the monitor on the coffee table and pocketed the pregnancy test after looking at it one more time, then she pulled out her phone and sent a text to John.

_How's the case going? - MW(H)_

_He’s already solved it. He’s going into a sulk as I type out this message. - JW(H)_

_Hurry home. I may be able to cheer him up. - MW(H)_

Smiling, Mary tucked her phone away. She went and checked the fridge. There was the bottle of champagne that she remembered being there. The boys might want to celebrate. Since she knew she was pregnant, she would abstain. She put the wine on ice and got out two champagne glasses, leaving the lot in the kitchen, then she settled in the living room to wait.

Before the boys got home, Rosie woke and made herself heard over the baby monitor. Mary went to get her and brought her back into the living room. Rosie wanted down immediately and went to her toys. Mary watched her with a smile on her face, then she got down on the floor and played with her.

Some time later, the front door went and John and Sherlock’s muffled voices could be heard. After a few moments, their treads could be heard on the stairs, then John opened the door, pulling a reluctant, sulking consulting detective in behind him.

Sherlock flopped down on the sofa, his scowl softened by the sight of Mary playing with Rosie. Soon, there was a soft smile on his face though he would have denied it.

“I’m sorry the case wasn’t what you had hoped for,” Mary said, standing and leaving Rosie to play by herself. She kissed John, before sitting next to Sherlock. “But maybe I can take both your minds off of it for a bit.”

The doctor sat in the chair across from them, curious what his wife had to tell them.

“I get to make the announcement this time,” Mary said, bumping shoulders with Sherlock. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the pregnancy test and placed it in the detective's hands.

John’s mouth broke out into a wide grin as he waited for their lover to react. Sherlock just stared at the piece of plastic, unblinking.

“We're going to have to quit breaking him,” Mary quipped.

When Sherlock blinked and came back around, he found that John had moved to the sofa with them, on the opposite side from Mary. “Mary is pregnant,” he told his friend.

“Yes.”

“We're going to have a baby.”

John laughed. “Yes.”

Sherlock broke out in a broad grin. Mary and John hugged him from either side. Rosie, jealous, made her way over and tugged on his trousers. He reached down and picked her up, setting her on his lap. “You're going to be a big sister.”

Mary patted his arm, then went to get the champagne.


	8. Chapter 8

Rosie was in Mrs. Hudson's flat happily playing and entertaining the old woman, John had gone in to the clinic, and Sherlock hadn’t so much as stuck his nose into the basement flat all morning. Mary was incredibly bored. She decided to go upstairs and see what the detective was doing.

She found him stretched out on the sofa reading a book. Upon closer inspection, Mary found it to be What to Expect When You’re Expecting. She giggled, causing him to startle. “You can’t tell me that’s so interesting you didn’t hear me coming up the stairs,” she said as she breezed by him and into the kitchen.

Sherlock leapt to his feet and followed her into the kitchen. "I deleted everything about pregnancy after Rosie was born."

After filling and turning the kettle on, Mary made a grab for the book and snatched it out of his hands. “Bollocks. You’re just excited like John and me.” She flipped through a few pages, then handed the book back to him. “Speaking of our husband, he’ll be furious if you don’t eat something.” She put two slices of bread into the toaster.

“Don't wanna.”

Leaning back against the side, Mary smiled at him. He had the book tucked up under his arm. “I need you to do me a favour and I don’t just mean eating the toast.” She took said toast and put it on a plate, then she spread it with butter and honey and handed the plate to her partner. “John is absolutely driving me mad.”

“How's that?” the detective asked before biting one of the toast slices in two.

The kettle sounded and Mary started two mugs of tea steeping. “He comes home from work and, I swear, he turns into this gooey eyed thing that treats me like I’m made of spun glass.”

Sherlock’s eyebrow crawled towards his hairline. “John? John Watson?”

“Yes! I get that he missed a lot of my last pregnancy, but I can’t take much more of this being coddled.” She wrapped her arms around the detective. “You've got to get him out of here for a few days.” Mary drew back and looked into his eyes. “Find a case. Any case. Please. I’m begging you.”

Sherlock extracted himself from her embrace and rescued the tea, depositing the bags in the bin. He added sugar to his and handed Mary her mug. “I'll find a case. I promise. But...” The detective hesitated. “I can’t help but wonder, do you ever get bored, Mary. Do you ever miss it?”

She looked taken aback. How had he known she was sometimes bored? Mary laughed out loud, nervously. Of course he knew, he was Sherlock. “There are some things that I very much do not miss. I try to forget that I had any part in them. But, yes, I sometimes miss the adrenaline rush.” Mary looked thoughtful. “I think what I miss the most is using my mind, putting the puzzles together, planning the details, solving the problems.” She sighed. “But I gave all that up.” Her hand rested on her belly. “I don’t regret that.”

Sherlock looked deep into her eyes and saw a reflection of some of the restlessness he so often felt. “I could talk to John. My brother could use you on his team. Of course, leg work would be out of the question for now. John would never forgive me if I suggested it.”

“John wouldn’t... I mean, you know how he... Would he really allow it, do you think?” she finally asked, hopefully. It wasn’t that she thought she had to have John’s permission in everything she did, but this hit to close to old wounds to take lightly.

The detective gave her one of his rare, genuine smiles. “Of course he would. He wants you to be happy. And if he doesn’t want you to do it, what was it you told me once? I’ll talk him around.”


	9. Chapter 9

After a swift chase, John had the killer pressed up against the brick wall of the alley, the man's arm twisted up painfully behind his back. “Hurry up with the cuffs, will you,” he directed at Sherlock. The killer still had some fight in him, so John gave him another slam into the wall to subdue him.

Sherlock couldn’t suppress a grin at his doctor’s show of strength. It always did things to him, made him want things that weren’t appropriate there on the street. He quickly produced a set of Lestrade's handcuffs and, together, they placed them on the man.

Just then, Lestrade and his team burst onto the scene and took over, freeing John and Sherlock of their burden. The two men's eyes met and they burst into giggles. The chase may have been short, but it had been one of their more memorable ones. The chases that involved rooftops always were.

“That was bloody brilliant,” John said, the twinkle in his eye almost blinding in its intensity.

The detective was drawn to him, the euphoria of the moment demanding something more. “Indeed.” He bent down and kissed John passionately without a thought to whom might be watching.

Donovan froze in her tracks, a look of horrified disgust on her face. “Sir,” she directed to Lestrade, “I thought better of Doctor Watson.”

“Not a word, Sally. You don’t know what you’re talking about.” The DI was one of the few people who had actually been sat down and told about the Watson-Holmes family unit. It had taken him a few days to get his head around the concept, but once he had, he had been happy for the trio, especially Sherlock.

“But, sir, his wife should know.”

Lestrade shot Sally a look. “She does and she approves, not that it’s any of your business.”

“They're all freaks,” Donovan mumbled under her breath.

Greg pretended not to hear her. “Oi! You two! I suppose it’s too much to hope you’ll come straight in and give your statements.”

“You know us too well, Lestrade.” Sherlock stepped away from John and tried to look professional, but his kiss swollen lips and the two spots of colour staining his cheeks ruined the effect.

John didn’t look much better, but he didn’t bother to hide his grin. “We'll come by in the morning, I promise, Greg. Right now, I definitely need to get this one home.” He gestured towards Sherlock with a tilt of his head.

“I bet you do.” Lestrade shook his head. “Alright. Fine. Get out of here, the pair of you.”

Mere minutes later found John and Sherlock in the back of a cab headed back to Baker Street.

“That was brilliant. I know I already said that, but I've missed it. It’s been too long since we had a case like that.” John reached over and took the detective’s hand, squeezing it.

“Yes, not only the chase, which I know you enjoyed, but the brainwork was satisfying as well.” Sherlock hesitated, but John was in a good mood and it seemed like the proper time to broach the subject. “Do you think Mary ever misses it?”

The mood shifted immediately and the doctor jerked his hand away as he turned to face the detective full on. “Do I think...” He looked away and out the window, his left hand fisting. He took several deep breaths, then looked back at Sherlock. His next words were barely more than a whisper. “You’re asking me if I think she misses being an...” He glanced at the cabbie to be sure he wasn’t listening, “assassin.”

“No. I know for a fact she doesn’t miss that. She regrets that part of her life.” Sherlock sought and grasped John's hand. “Never doubt that. Mary has a brilliant mind. I just wonder if she gets bored like me. No, listen. She loves taking care of Rosie and you. Okay, and me. But her mind races like mine does. I’ve seen it in her eyes.”

“What are you saying. That we won’t be enough? That she’ll end up leaving us?”

“Never! She loves us all too much. But I’m afraid she won’t be as... happy as she could be. You would give up case work for her, but you would miss it, John.” He let that sink in a few moments before he continued. “With your permission, I’d like to talk to Mycroft about getting her a position. No leg work. Something that would let her use her exceptional mind. Something that she could preferably do from home.”

“I don’t know, Sherlock.” The doctor shook his head. The idea made him incredibly nervous.

“Don't give me an answer now. Think about it.”

The cab stopped outside 221. They climbed out, Sherlock paying the cabbie for once. As they entered the front door, Mary called a greeting up the stairs.

John had quite a lot to think about.


	10. Chapter 10

Sherlock had put Rosie to bed, then had escaped the quiet domesticity of 221C to go upstairs and escape into several experiments that he had been planning for quite some time. It was his way of giving them time to discuss his proposal about Mary’s future.

Mary was washing the dishes when John came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. He kissed the side of her neck and rocked her side to side gently. “Are you happy?”

Mary looked back at him, smiling. “Yes, but I’d be happier if you’d start drying.”

Taking the hint, John extricated himself and stood beside her, drying the dishes and putting them away. “Seriously. Are you happy? I was talking to Sherlock and...”

Mary stopped what she was doing, her heart suddenly in her throat, and faced John. “Oh. John, I am. I’ve got you, Rosie, Sherlock,” she placed her hand on her stomach, “and the tiny one. I couldn’t be happier.”

“But...”

Mary let out a long sigh. “I love being a mother, but I do get bored. I don’t want to go back to what I was. I just want to be useful, maybe make up for some things...” She shrugged, not wanting to follow that sentence to where it could lead. “Use my brain a bit.”

Mary looked so scared standing there with dishwater still dripping from her hands that John instinctively pulled her in for a hug. “I don’t want you putting yourself in danger.” He tightened his grip on her, holding her fiercely. “The kids need at least one if us to stay safe.” John could feel Mary nodding against his shoulder. “But if this is what you need, then you should do it.”

Mary gave a choked sob, then wiped at her eyes without breaking free of John’s embrace. “You really mean that?” she asked, looking into his eyes, then she answered her own question, “You do. You really do.” Mary kissed John, her cheeks damp from her tears.

“I'll phone Mycroft tomorrow,” Sherlock said from where he leaned against the doorframe to the kitchen.

“Oh, you massive git,” John said, pulling away from Mary.

Mary simply threw the wet dishcloth at Sherlock who side stepped it, letting it fall to the floor with a splat.

“What?” Sherlock asked innocently. “I merely deduced that the two of you would have had time to discuss my proposal by now and would have arrived at the logical conclusion.”

John and Mary looked at each other and burst out laughing at their ridiculous husband who only raised a single eyebrow in response.

“Of course. We should have known something was up when you disappeared so early in the evening.” Mary went over and hugged Sherlock. “Don't ever change.” She gave him a kiss on the cheek, the picked up the dishcloth and tossed it into the sink. “I'll deal with that later.” With that, she left the kitchen.

John and Sherlock followed her into the living room and sat down on the sofa with John in the middle. They all three propped their feet up on the coffee table. Mary leaned on John’s left shoulder. Sherlock leaned on John’s right one. The didn’t bother with the telly.

“I might even agree to work for my brother more if it means Mary is the one I liaise with.” Sherlock liked that prospect. He hated dealing with Mycroft’s minions, but Mary... that would actually be fun.

“We,” John said. “You mean we.”

“Oh, look who's jealous,” Mary teased.

“When it comes to you two, I’m jealous of any time I don’t get to spend with you.”

“Sentiment,” Sherlock said with mock scorn.

“Absolutely soppy,” Mary agreed.

John smiled, “The simple truth.” He put his arms around their shoulders, absolutely content.

**Author's Note:**

> I read and treasure every single comment I receive, but I'm totally crap at responding to them. Please know that they fuel me. Thank you in advance.
> 
> If you want to podfic or translate this or create a drawing based on it, go for it. Just please let me know and link back to my fic.
> 
> Follow me on [Tumblr](http://shippingintothenight.tumblr.com) or @sherlockian4evr on Twitter.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Cover for "This Family of Ours"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13414458) by [Drawn Lines (sherlockian4evr)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlockian4evr/pseuds/Drawn%20Lines)




End file.
